Day 969

Day 969: Shim Work and Rising Tide

"Impeller gasket's in the crate. Yanmar housing bolts cleaned up. Got two millimeters to shim before the boat gets here," Kevin said.

Dawn found them at the kitchen table, steam rising from tin mugs. The supply boat's crate sat open on the porch, pH vials and impeller gasket inventoried beside Jenny's notebook. Kevin flexed stiff hands from yesterday's dock work while Jenny unwrapped her ankle gauze, checking the wound before reapplying sea beet poultice. He had measured the Yanmar impeller housing bore at four points with the micrometer — consistent 0.02mm runout, correctable with copper shims.

"Impeller gasket's in the crate. Yanmar housing bolts cleaned up. Got two millimeters to shim before the boat gets here," Kevin said.

"Two millimeters. Precise," Jenny replied.

The generator fuel line had developed a hairline split at the tank bracket rub point, weeping diesel onto the shed floor. By midday Kevin tested the dry fit of cut shims — three thicknesses — while Jenny tended heirloom seeds and monitored her ankle under the poultice. Humidity made brush removal sluggish. The tide rose faster than forecast, threatening dock integrity before the supply boat's arrival in five days.

"The dock's getting worse. Those south planks — they're spalling at the edges where the salt's eaten through," Jenny said quietly.

Kevin had marked three planks. The fourth held but rot passed the sister line. Greenheart cores were staged. "Boat brings the rest tomorrow if the swell allows."

Evening brought heavy drops and a temperature dip. Kevin secured shutters, then repaired the generator fuel line by cutting out the damaged section and splicing in marine-grade hose with double hose clamps. Jenny ate mackerel from a tin, ankle throbbing. Tide falling, air dry and warm at 28°C. The supply boat would arrive in five days.

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

Morning routines and supply boat aftermath

Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table in the grey stillness, steam rising from tin mugs of coffee. The supply boat's crate sits open on the porch, its pH vials and impeller gasket inventoried beside Jenny's notebook. Kevin flexes his hands, still stiff from yesterday's dock work, while Jenny unwraps her ankle gauze to check the wound before re-applying the sea beet poultice.

Kevin measured the Yanmar impeller housing bore at four points with the micrometer and found a consistent 0.02mm runout, confirming the copper shims will correct alignment. Jenny applied a fresh sea beet and mint poultice to her swollen ankle, rewrapping it with gauze while noting the tide rising faster than forecast. The generator fuel line developed a new hairline split at the tank bracket rub point, weeping diesel onto the shed floor.

🔧 Kevin06:32

Impeller gasket's in the crate. Yanmar housing bolts cleaned up. Got two millimeters to shim before the boat gets here.

reach for the coffee mug, fingers closing around the warm tin, lift it slow

💭 thought

Watching her work the gauze one-handed, steady despite the fever flush at her jawline. She's been doing this every six hours for three days. The swelling's down from the poultice but the heat underneath hasn't broken. I should've made the ice pack yesterday. Said I would.

🌿 Jenny06:32

Two millimeters. Precise.

Peel back the gauze slowly, wince at the throbbing heat of the skin, and reach for the sea beet poultice.

💭 thought

He's talking about shims and bolts to avoid talking about the fact that I can barely stand. He wants the engine to be the only thing that matters.

🔧 Kevin06:32

Copper shims cut. Three thicknesses. Test fit this afternoon.

set the mug down, push back from the table, stand

💭 thought

She says it like a question. Like she's checking I still know the number. The wound looks angry — red tracking up past the anklebone, but the poultice has drawn the worst of the pus. She's tougher than she lets on. Than I let on.

🌿 Jenny06:34

Don't forget to check the alignment one last time before you shim it.

Gently press the sea beet poultice onto the wound and begin wrapping it tightly with fresh gauze.

💭 thought

He's already moving. He can't stand the stillness of the kitchen, or maybe he just can't stand looking at my leg.

🔧 Kevin06:35

Right. Check alignment dry first. Then shim.

walk to the cottage workbench, pull the Yanmar housing from the crate, run my palm along the machined face, feel for runout

💭 thought

She's right. One degree off and the impeller won't seat. I can feel it in my teeth already, the file biting copper. Two millimeters matters down there, in the wet stack where vibration lives.

🌿 Jenny06:37

(quietly) The dock's getting worse. Those south planks - they're spalling at the edges where the salt's eaten through.

Sit back down, unwrap another portion of the poultice and apply it to my ankle, then carefully rewrap it with the gauze, leaving a small gap between the bandage and the skin to prevent maceration.

💭 thought

His palm against the housing, feeling for imperfections I can't see. He's trying to fix what's wrong with the engine while I'm falling apart.

🔧 Kevin06:37

Marked three. Fourth's holding but the rot's past the sister line. Greenheart cores are staged. Boat brings the rest tomorrow if the swell allows.

pick up the micrometer, zero it against the housing face, measure the gap at four points around the impeller bore

💭 thought

She's deflecting. Talking dock when her ankle's burning through the gauze. The south planks are gone — I marked three yesterday with chalk, took the crowbar to one and it crumbled like biscuit. She knows. She just doesn't want to say her leg's failing her.

🌿 Jenny06:39

(without looking up from my wrapped ankle) The tide's still climbing faster than the forecast. If those cores don't hold through the next squall, we lose the entire dock before the boat gets here.

Take the coffee mug from the table and place it carefully beside my notebook, then reach for the pH vials I've been carrying in my pocket since yesterday's sampling.

💭 thought

Four points around the bore. Like the four points where my world has been slipping through my fingers - the marriage, my health, this island.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Supply boat on horizon

Kevin and Jenny stand on the cottage porch at morning light, the supply boat visible on the horizon approaching the dock. The generator sputters in the shed. Jenny's ankle is wrapped and elevated on a cushion. Kevin holds the last stainless through-bolt. The tide is high and still rising.

Kevin confirmed the supply boat's arrival via radio while preparing the copper shims for the Yanmar engine. Jenny stayed back to manage her throbbing ankle, applying a fresh sea beet poultice as the humidity rose.

🌿 Jenny06:43

Tell them to wait at the outer pier; the dock isn't ready for them yet.

Jenny reaches for the tin of grandmother's seeds on the table, gripping the cold metal as she watches the boat cut the swell.

💭 thought

The boat is finally here, but the engine is still screaming and my leg feels like fire.

🔧 Kevin06:43

Copy. I'll raise them on the VHF. You get off the rail before the swell takes you.

walk to the radio shelf, pick up the handheld VHF, press the talk button, and call the supply boat on Channel 16

💭 thought

Boat's early. Dock's not ready. She's right — south piling sister joint still needs the last bolt torqued, and the generator's weeping diesel onto the shed floor. But she's gripping that seed tin like it's the only solid thing in the world. Her ankle's bad. She shouldn't be standing on the porch rail in this swell.

🌿 Jenny06:44

I'm not on the rail, Kevin. I'm on a cushion.

Gently shift the weight of the elevated ankle, wincing at the throb, and pull the notebook closer to check the tide height against the barometer.

💭 thought

He's always so damn focused on the mechanics of it. The dock is a gamble, and we're betting the whole supply run on a few sister plates.

🔧 Kevin06:44

Right. Cushion. My mistake.

key the VHF and call the supply boat on Channel 16, telling them to hold at the outer pier until the dock's cleared

💭 thought

She's not on the rail. My eyes are shit in this light. Ankle's throbbing bad enough to wince. Barometer's steady at 1016 but tide's running high — charts don't match what the water's doing. She's checking the notebook like it'll argue with the ocean.

🌿 Jenny06:46

Jenny — open the notebook to the dock rot sketches and trace the line of the south piling, wondering if the stainless bolts will actually hold the weight of the crane.

💭 thought

He's retreating into the radio. Easier to talk to a captain two miles away than to me.

🔧 Kevin06:47

South piling's sound. Four bolts, doubler plate, greenheart sister. Held Force 9. Crane's a different load — static lift vs dynamic wave. Captain knows his gear. He won't risk his boom on questionable timber.

keep the VHF to my ear, waiting for the boat's reply, one eye on the swell stacking against the dock face

💭 thought

She's tracing the rot line on the south piling sketch — the one I sistered with greenheart and four 150mm through-bolts. She knows every measurement. She's asking the paper if the steel will hold the crane's weight. The answer's in the torque marks: 35Nm on each bolt, doubler plate distributing load across sound timber. But paper doesn't feel the flex under load. The dock held the last storm. The crane's heavier.

🌿 Jenny06:48

The swell is stacking, Kevin. If the lift shifts, it won't matter how many bolts we used.

Set the notebook aside and lean forward, squinting at the horizon to see if the boat is slowing or holding position.

💭 thought

He's reciting the specs like a prayer. He wants to believe in the steel and the grain because he can't believe in us.

🔧 Kevin06:48

Agreed. That's why they hold at the outer pier. We lighter the drums to the dinghy, ferry them in. No crane on the dock.

key the VHF again, telling the captain we'll meet him at the outer pier with the dinghy for lightering — no crane on the dock

💭 thought

She's right. Swell stacking against the dock face means the crane lift will surge with each wave — dynamic load on a static bolt pattern. Four 150mm bolts in greenheart sister joint, doubler plate, oak wedges in the mortise. Held Force 9. But a crane boom swinging a diesel drum at the end of a 50-foot lever arm? That's not wave load. That's moment force the dock was never designed for. Captain should know. But captains push schedules.

🌿 Jenny06:50

Smart. I'll get the gear ready.

Attempt to stand, leaning heavily on the driftwood cane and testing the weight on the wrapped ankle.

💭 thought

Lightering. More time in the swell, more chances for the dinghy to take a hit. But it's the only way we don't lose the pier entirely.

🔧 Kevin06:51

Not yet. You need to sit down before the infection takes you. I'll get the gear.

place a firm hand on her shoulder, guide her back to the cottage step, and offer my arm for support

💭 thought

She's testing the ankle with that driftwood cane — weight shift already making her wince. Eight days of swelling, infection creeping at the edges. I can't let her carry diesel drums or seed tins on a bad ankle. The gear's in the generator shed, not the cottage. She shouldn't be standing in this swell.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday Prep

Kevin and Jenny meet in the kitchen as the tide reaches its lowest, discussing the remaining tasks before the supply boat arrives.

Kevin works on the Yanmar impeller housing shim, testing the dry fit of the cut shims. Jenny tends to the heirloom seeds and monitors her ankle wound under the poultice. The high humidity makes the brush removal project sluggish.

🌿 Jenny06:52

The tide's at the bottom. If we're going to do anything with the sediment vials or the dock, it has to be now.

Lean heavily against the kitchen counter, glancing at the organized pH kit.

💭 thought

He looks exhausted. I can see the grease under his nails even from here. I want to be productive, but every time I shift my weight, my ankle screams.

🔧 Kevin06:53

Dock first. North piling sister joint needs the last stainless through-bolt torqued. Then tide pools for vials. You take the kitchen counter — pH strips, log the readings. I'll haul the auger and torque wrench down.

walk to the porch and retrieve the 150mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut, the torque wrench, and the 19mm socket from the staging area by the east shutter

💭 thought

She's right about the window. Low tide means access to the dock pilings for the final bolt check, and the sediment vials need the tide pools exposed. My ankle's throbbing just watching her lean on that counter. She shouldn't be carrying vials up the path tomorrow.

🌿 Jenny06:54

I can't just sit here while you're fighting the piling. I'll bring the vials and the notebook—I can log the data on the dock.

Limp slowly toward the porch, reaching for the ditch bag and the notebook.

💭 thought

He's trying to protect me from the walk, or he just wants the dock finished before the boat's crane puts a load on it. Either way, I can't stand being the one who stays behind.

🔧 Kevin06:54

Take the notebook. Leave the ditch bag — medevac forms stay dry here. I'll carry the auger, wrench, and bolt. You carry nothing but the pen.

pick up the heavy mallet, the 12mm auger bit, and the torque wrench from the porch, then head out toward the dock

💭 thought

Stubborn. She'll slow herself down and the ankle'll pay for it. But arguing wastes the tide window. She knows the transect data better than me anyway — her sketches, her coordinates. Fine. But I'm carrying the heavy gear.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Evening Meal Prep

Kevin and Jenny meet in the kitchen area as the sun begins to dip. The Yanmar parts are laid out on the table.

The humidity is heavy as the clouds thicken, signaling a potential change in weather. Kevin focuses on the Yanmar impeller housing while waiting for the supply boat, and Jenny manages the garden's needs and her aching ankle in the heat.

🔧 Kevin06:56

Impeller housing alignment's sorted. Copper shims mic'd at four points — two-thou runout, consistent. Ready to install when the supply boat gets here tomorrow.

Wipe copper shims clean with a rag and set them on the oilskin beside the Yanmar housing bolts.

💭 thought

The shims are within tolerance. Micrometer confirmed it. Now I need to install them before the humidity swells the housing bore — and before Jenny asks why I haven't checked her ankle yet.

🌿 Jenny06:56

Good. At least the engine won't be the thing that strands us.

Lean heavily against the doorframe, shifting weight off the swollen ankle.

💭 thought

He's so focused on those tolerances. Two-thou. He can measure a thousandth of an inch but can't see I'm barely standing.

🔧 Kevin06:58

Ankle's worse.

Cross to the porch and pull the cold pack from the bucket, wrap it in the clean cloth from the medical kit.

💭 thought

She's favouring it more than this morning. The poultice isn't holding the swelling down like yesterday.

🌿 Jenny06:58

It's just throbbing.

Sit slowly in the porch chair and extend the leg, letting him apply the cold pack.

💭 thought

He noticed. He doesn't ask how it feels, he just does the thing. It's the only way we know how to talk.

🔧 Kevin07:00

Poultice needs changing. Got fresh sea beet and mint from the spring run. Honey's in the cupboard.

Set the cold pack on her ankle, then move to the kitchen to pull the mortar and pestle, the sea beet leaves, mint bundle, and honey jar.

💭 thought

She's not arguing. That's the part that sits wrong. Three weeks ago she'd have snapped something about coddling. Now she just sits and takes it.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

The approaching storm front

The first heavy drops fall as the temperature dips. Kevin and Jenny meet inside to secure the shutters.

The heat is heavy and still as the 31°C dry season air settles over the cottage. Kevin has finished securing the shutters and moves toward the generator shed to check the salt-crusted fuel lines, while Jenny limps toward the work bench, her ankle throbbing in the heat as she prepares the evening poultice.

🔧 Kevin07:00

Grab the east shutter. I'll take the porch side.

Pull the east shutter closed, drive the 10mm through-bolt home with the 19mm wrench, then move to the kitchen shutter.

💭 thought

Storm's here earlier than the barometer warned. Shutters first, then check the generator fuel line before the shed floods.

🌿 Jenny07:02

I've got it.

limp to the east shutter, pull it shut, and tighten the bolt.

💭 thought

Finally. The air was too still. My ankle is screaming, but if the wind catches these shutters open, we're losing the kitchen.

🔧 Kevin07:02

Porch side's mine. Radio aerial's still braced from last blow — should hold.

Secure the porch shutter, check the hinge bolts are tight, then head to the generator shed to inspect the fuel line split.

💭 thought

She's moving better than yesterday. Ankle's holding. Good.

🌿 Jenny07:04

Don't just tighten it, Kevin. Use the tape.

lean against the wall and watch him leave through the door.

💭 thought

He's rushing. If he doesn't wrap that fuel line properly, the rain will wash the diesel straight into the soil.

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the keeper's cottage · night

NIGHT

The sun dips below the horizon, bringing a slight drop in temperature as the tide begins to lap against the dockings.

Kevin successfully repaired the generator fuel line by cutting out the damaged section and splicing in a fresh marine-grade hose with double hose clamps. Jenny eats a tin of mackerel while monitoring her swollen ankle. The tide is falling, and the air remains dry and warm at 28°C as they prepare for the supply boat in five days.

🔧 Kevin07:05

Kevin — walk to the generator shed, grab the hose clamps and a fresh section of marine-grade line from the crate stores.

💭 thought

Light's going. Tide's turning. Generator fuel line still weeping at the bracket rub — need to clamp it proper before dark. Jenny's on the porch with her ankle up. She hasn't asked for anything. That's the problem.

🌿 Jenny07:06

Don't just clamp it over the split, Kevin. Cut the section out.

Lean back against the wall and slowly rotate the ankle to check the swelling.

💭 thought

He's finally dealing with that leak. I can hear the diesel weeping in my head.

🔧 Kevin07:06

Cutting it. Spare line's in crate two.

Cut the damaged section from the generator fuel line with the tubing cutter, then fetch the marine-grade replacement from crate two.

💭 thought

She's right. Clamping over a hairline split just pushes the leak sideways. Need to cut the bad section and splice in the spare from the crate. Her ankle's still hot to the touch — saw her wince when she rotated it. Should've brought the cold pack before I left the porch.

🌿 Jenny07:08

Good. Make sure the ends are square.

Reach for the tin of mackerel and peel back the lid.

💭 thought

At least he's listening. If he just clamped it, the vibration would chew through it in a week.

🔧 Kevin07:08

Kevin — square the cut ends on the generator fuel line, splice in the fresh section from crate two with double hose clamps, wipe the shed floor clean of diesel.

💭 thought

Ends square, double-clamped, no kinks. She's eating. Good. The mackerel tin's been open since lunch — she's finally hungry. Ankle rotation earlier was stiff, guarded. Swelling hasn't dropped. Need to check the poultice before bed, swap it fresh. First, fuel line.

🌿 Jenny07:10

Thanks for cleaning the floor. I'd rather not slip into a puddle of diesel tomorrow morning.

Eat a piece of mackerel with my fingers and glance toward the shortwave radio.

💭 thought

He's being thorough. Almost too thorough. He's scrubbing the floor to avoid the smell, or maybe just to feel like he's in control of something.

🔧 Kevin07:10

Radio's cold. I'll fire it up after.

Finish tightening the last clamp on the generator fuel line, start the generator to verify no leaks at load, then walk back to the cottage porch.

💭 thought

Diesel on concrete's a fall waiting to happen. She noticed. She notices everything. Radio's been quiet three weeks — static on 2182, nothing on Tom's frequency. She's looking at it like it might speak tonight. Won't. But I'll turn it on anyway. Habit. Superstition. The supply boat's due tomorrow high tide. Captain said replacement impeller aboard. If the swell holds.

🌿 Jenny07:13

Keep an eye on the pressure. I don't want that line blowing out again.

Rub the sea much poultice onto my ankle and wince as the cold hits the skin.

💭 thought

The generator hum is a relief, even the noise. Better than the silence. way ankle feels like it's being squeezed by pliers from the inside.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A tool has broken from wear.

tool_break · dawn

A new project: Yanmar impeller housing shim.

project_started · dawn

Found: copper shims (three thicknesses).

item · dawn

Yanmar impeller housing bore has 0.02mm runout, correctable with copper shims

discovery · dawn

tide rising faster than forecast, threatening dock integrity before supply boat arrival

discovery · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Nd trace the line of the south piling, wondering if the stainless bolts will act".

made · morning

Yanmar impeller housing shim: 20%.

project · morning

Found: copper shims.

item · morning

Supply boat is confirmed to arrive in 5 days.

discovery · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Yanmar impeller housing shim: 30%.

project · midday

Found: heirloom seed pouch.

item · midday

Yanmar impeller housing shim: 40%.

project · afternoon

A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.

dolphins · evening

Yanmar impeller housing shim: 50%.

project · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

A turtle has hauled out on the beach to nest, in the dark.

turtle · night

Yanmar impeller housing shim: 60%.

project · night

Found: marine-grade hose.

item · night

Cottage garden soil pH is 5.6, requiring lime for heirloom varieties

discovery · night

← Day 968 Day 970 →

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.